


The Coupon Book

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Comfort/Angst, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: John uses last year's Christmas present to make this holiday merry and bright.





	The Coupon Book

**Author's Note:**

> Doctor John Hamish Watson loved Christmas a lot, but Sherlock Holmes who lived at 221B did NOT!

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. A clever plan, in the crafty sense of the word, and one that would satisfy his boyfriend's ridiculously childlike fixation on Christmas. Last year, their first Christmas as a couple, had unleashed the "beast" within John that insisted their entire world resemble the North Pole as closely as possible.

 

Of course Sherlock knew that meant the tedious exchange of Christmas gifts, however this annoying factoid had only occurred to him on Christmas Eve. When faced with fighting the dregs of humanity to select the meager pickings left at the shops, he opted to create a coupon book to place under the tree, (Good Lord, there was a tree), Christmas morning.

 

Boring as the task proved to be, Sherlock used it to his best advantage. Rather than offer the traditional dozen items, (yes, yes partridge in a fruit tree, leaping, dancing, milking, piping people, various other bird species and cheap jewelry that probably turned your finger green), he provided the proverbial Baker's dozen. 

 

Naturally the coupons had an expiration date of one year, couldn't have John making requests of him forever, and then there was the content. Several of the coupons were decidedly sexual in nature, a filthy blow job, marathon coitus and even a session of role play. THAT had backfired spectacularly when John insisted it be incorporated in what they wore for the following Halloween. Sherlock would never live that down.

 

Sherlock was also aware that at least a few of the coupons needed to be practical in nature so his intentions appeared sincere. So he carefully concocted coupons that either masqueraded as something else, as in "Sherlock will give John peace and quiet for an entire day"- translation: "Sherlock will spend hours at the morgue harassing Molly and conducting experiments'', or were unlikely to come to fruition. Case in point: "Sherlock will clean the tub and shower" presupposed John could make him. Unfortunately, after giving him a rim job under the streaming water one day, John had reached past the curtain to produce that particular coupon and with a smile, cooed "Here ya go love, as long as you're in there."

 

The second incident was even more maddening. If any of the coupons were to go unredeemed it would be the one that promised shoveling the pavement and steps on Baker Street should there be a heavy snow in March. Little chance of that. Until- damn global warming! There's always something.

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

Now only two coupons remained, both earmarked for the current Christmas Season, a final nod to assuaging John's insatiable Father Christmas complex. Tonight, coupon twelve was presented with glee and that is how Sherlock found himself on the couch with John enduring two infantile Holiday Children's Programs.

 

"For Christ sakes Sherlock, it's one bloody hour. The Grinch and Frosty, not Die Hard. Suck it up and drink your cocoa."

 

"This is gross misuse of the intention of the coupon, John."

 

"Says right here, the Christmas programs of my choosing. Did you expect I'd select some obscure, seldom performed oratorio by a composer only you have ever heard of? Sorry, sweetheart. It IS me we're talking about. Now, because you interrupted, we're starting the Grinch again."

 

It was infuriating. Somehow John seemed to have memorized every bit of this mind numbing dreck and now he was singing. What educated man actually enjoys a song that ends with a cackling "Stink, Stank, Stunk." The worst part was Sherlock was going to have to watch that scene again.

 

John had been thoroughly entertained both by the programs and Sherlock's pouting until at one point in the Grinch he felt his lover stiffen beside him and flinch. Something was wrong, but Sherlock wasn't talking, not even later to challenge the inane premise that Frosty, when brought to life, would shout Happy Birthday! 'How would a snowman know about birthdays?', was what John expected to hear, instead there was only silence.

 

When John went to the kitchen with the empty mugs, Sherlock retreated to their bedroom and closed the door. Normally John would have scolded him for being a poor sport, but this was worrisome. He was about to knock when he heard it. Sherlock was sobbing. Not sniffling or crying, no, these were deep, painful sobs. John wanted to throw open the door and demand an explanation, but somehow that didn't feel right.

 

He and Sherlock had no more secrets from each other, they shared everything. Whatever this was, clearly it was a private grief, a moment when Sherlock needed to be alone with his thoughts and be given the dignity of solitude. When John at last entered the room, Sherlock had exhausted himself and didn't even stir when John crawled into bed beside him and took him in his arms.

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

As the morning sun pried John's eyes open like a nagging mother, Sherlock was long gone. A terse note declared he was off to pay tribute, aka money and treats, to the members of his homeless network and that John was not to expect him until evening. The wording was clipped and impersonal but the usual SH at the bottom included a tiny heart and 'I love you.'

 

John forced himself to make tea and toast as he tried to understand how last night had gone to hell. He knew Sherlock really only "put up" with his Christmas frivolity to please him, but John had never seen a reaction so severe before. Determined to deduce what happened, he replayed The Grinch until it came to the point where... There, it had happened just then. When The Grinch was crashing down the mountainside and had cracked his whip and poor Max had yipped and... Shit. Shit. SHIT!!!!

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

"John dear, good morning. Only a bit over a week until Christmas isn't it. Exciting but oh there's so much to do. I expect I'll be baking round the clock at this point." Her pleasant smile only made this more difficult. 

 

"Martha, I know how busy you are, but I need to ask you a favor, a big one. Sorry to bother you but it's..."

 

"Nothing is too much of a bother for my boys, and I'm guessing this has something to do with Sherlock flying out of here before sunrise today."

 

"In a way yes, and this is terribly important."

 

"Well, go on then, dear. How can I help?"

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

When Sherlock returned that night, John could tell he had neither eaten nor stopped even for a tea the entire day. He wouldn't meet John's eyes and removed his Belstaff and scarf with his head down and his shoulders slumped.

 

"Successful day, love? Get to see all your compatriots?"

 

"For the most part. There are several who will only accept 'offerings' through a third party so there's that to deal with, but all in all mission accomplished. John, I'm sure you want to discuss last night but I..."

 

"No worries. Actually, I need your help with something for Hudders downstairs. She's been waiting all day and I promised to see to it straight away when you came home."

 

Sherlock sighed, "John I'm really not in the mood for her nattering right now. I need tea and, don't sneer, food."

 

"I imagine. But this will only take a tick. Come on you, remember it's almost Christmas. Santa is watching."

 

"I am sure I am on the permanent, as in engraved in stone, naughty list."

 

"Maybe, but it can't hurt to be extra good these last few days. Let's go."

 

At the bottom of the stairs, before Sherlock could head towards Mrs. Hudson's flat, John let go with a shrill, loud whistle. At that, the door to her flat opened and out pranced, the only word for it, Hudders wearing something like a Mrs.Claus outfit and singing, "Santa Claus is coming to town."

 

Behind her she pulled a small toy wagon decorated to resemble a miniature sleigh and inside the wagon was a red "Santa's Bag" and beside it, wearing a tiny pair of reindeer antlers and a jingle bell collar was a wriggling, tail wagging Irish Setter puppy. Sherlock froze.

 

Hudders rolled the wagon over to him and placed the handle in his hand, kissing him on the cheek. "Happy early Christmas from Santa. Go on then, he's for you dear."

 

At that moment, the puppy vaulted from his seat and tried to scale the six foot leg that loomed in front of him. Slowly, Sherlock bent down and gently stoked the small head and ran his fingers over the soft fur. "I...I don't understand."

 

John smiled, "What's to understand? Season of love and giving and all that. I love you and I'm giving. Take a look at his collar."

 

The collar bore two tags. One, shaped like the deerstalker, had his name and address on it and the other, a silver "magnifying glass" was stamped "I am Chipped."

 

"A microchip, John?"

 

"Needs must, sweetheart. Thinking of getting one for you honestly. Would save me tons of aggro."

 

Sherlock had lifted the puppy which was now enthusiastically licking his face and hands. "He's wonderful."

 

"You'll find that sack filled with indestructible toys that I think neither of you will be able to reduce to rubble, and no experiments. That's an order from the head elf. That's me by the way, hello."

 

The sack yielded red and green Christmas doggie toys. A star, ring, tree, snowman, reindeer, mitten, bone and squeaky ball which had already caught the pup's attention.

 

Suddenly, Sherlock put the dog back in the wagon. "John while I appreciate the sentiment, I can't possibly accept. A dog is totally inappropriate as a gift. You well know the care, both daily and medically, will probably fall to you. Walks, feeding, play require due diligence and I fear I am sorely lacking in those areas."

 

"Only thing you're lacking, love, is the self-respect that you never give yourself credit for. I for one am willing to risk it, and just to stave off any further argument, there's this."

 

Reaching into his jean's pocket, John produced the last coupon. "Read that out loud so we all can hear."

 

"Sherlock Holmes, agrees upon receipt of this coupon to allow John Watson to bestow upon him ONE tremendously sentimental and wildly inappropriate Christmas present which will be accepted without discussion. Bollocks, I'd forgotten about that one."

 

"I was counting on that. So, it's all settled, then."

 

Martha was happily making baby talk to the puppy, then turned to the boys. "And you'll not use me as an excuse to refuse this little one, young man. Any sign he's not being taken proper care of and you'll have me to deal with."

 

John snorted, "THAT is truly frightening. One more thing, he needs a name. No rush but.."

 

"Robbie."

 

"Robbie. After Rob Roy or Robbie Burns, the poet not the footballer."

 

"Robbie Burns is a footballer? Preposterous!"

 

"Again, I ask, Robbie?"

 

"It means bright and shining. Like you, John, my conductor of light, and like Christmastime which, from this day on, will always be bright and shining for me."

 

He put an arm around Hudders and then pulled John to his side. "I love my gift and I love both of you. Forgive me if I never say it often enough."

 

Hudders promptly honked her nose like a Christmas goose and tutted. "None of that nonsense. I've biscuits, and scones and cakes to bake, so you three had best take yourselves upstairs and go about the business of whatever it is you get up to." She winked and disappeared back into her flat.

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

Shortly, John emerged from the spare bedroom with a doggie bed for their new flatmate. "Here you are, Robbie. Your own space."

 

"John, that's enormous. He'll be swallowed alive."

 

"He's going to get a lot bigger, berk, look at those paws.The bigger the feet the bigger...well you should know."

 

Sherlock couldn't resist a grin and his cheeks and neck blushed furiously. "What made you decide to buy me, ah us, a pet?"

 

"I knew something serious had happened last night, so I went back and rewatched the story. That's when I realized when it seemed Max was unhappy and ill treated, that triggered you. I never thought about Redbeard in that context until now. I'll throw the damn DVD away right now."

 

"No, please don't. It DID trigger me, but it also shows the best of dogs. They're loyal and loving no matter what, and Max had a big part in making The Grinch a better person. Something I hope to learn from Robbie, and you."

 

Later that night, when baked goods had been consumed and Hudders and Robbie were snug in their wee little beds, the two human animals of 221B were curled up together in post love making bliss. Sherlock had come back from the loo with warm flannels to "tidy up" and spun around three times before falling back into bed.

 

"WHAT are you doing?"

 

"Man's best friend always turns around chasing their tail three times before settling down, and I always want to be your best friend, John."

 

"Best friend, lover, life, heart and soul, Lock. As for Robbie, I'll have both of you housebroken before you know it."

 

"Looking forward to it. By the way, you'd best redeem that last coupon in your book before it expires."

 

"But that was the last coupon I used downstairs."

 

"As always you see but you do not observe. Look again."

 

John retrieved the small booklet from the bedside table and opened it. "See, empty."

 

"Look closer, John."

 

The front cover still read To John, Happy Christmas, Sherlock. But on the back cover was a newly scrawled message. "This coupon entitles the bearer to a life time of wedded bliss with the flatmate of his choice. No expiration date. Will you marry me?"

 

John surged across the bed to kiss Sherlock passionately before practically shouting, "Oh, God YES!"

 

"Then I take it you intend to redeem the coupon as soon as possible. If so I suggest we begin the Honeymoon now so as to save time later. Let's not disappoint Hudders, ravish me. There is nothing stopping us we have all..."

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Bloody hell, John!"

 

"That would be your other best friend needing to go outside I wager. And if the next words out of your mouth were going to be, 'I'm not going to do that', well DARLING..."

 

"Not a bit of it John. I'll see to Robbie's needs and when I come back you can see to mine. My family was never one for Christmas Traditions but I think we may have just started one of our own. Be right back."

 

John watched Sherlock scamper out the door with Robbie in tow, both of them looking young and full of joy. He settled back on the pillows rubbing his thumbs over his marriage proposal coupon and spoke to the walls of 221B.

 

**"Christmas Day is in our grasp as long as we have hands to clasp. Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we. Welcome Christmas while we stand heart to heart and hand in hand."**

**Author's Note:**

> ** From Dr. Seuss' "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"**
> 
> I know it's been done before but I couldn't resist.
> 
> Hope everyone's holiday season has been holly and jolly so far. Kudos and comments make me happier than Christmas sweets and have no calories. ❤️🎅🏼❤️🎄 Pat


End file.
